"He's my son, Alina – my biological child! I can't just give him to you without a fight! What will he think a few months from now, let alone a year, when he's had some time to think about things and he realizes that his own mother didn't love him enough to raise him?"

"Belle, listen to me. I know you love Leo-"

"His name is Lionel."

Alina sighed. "He hates that name!"

Belle gasped. "He does? I – I thought he was just going through a phase right now – you know, rebelling against everything his father likes-"

Alina shook her head. "No, my sweet sister. Leo hates his name, trains, miniatures, and I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this: he hates his foster brothers and sisters the most."

"But – why?" Belle was close to tears. "I don't understand. Lionel was so sweet when he was little. I don't know where all this hatred and animosity is coming from – and I certainly don't understand where those drugs came from!"

"I know – and that's why I think it's for the best that Leo come and live with me for a bit. Getting him out of Vegas to a new school, new friends, fresh start – I think that all those things will be good for him."

"Are you sure that this won't disrupt your life too much?" Ernie spoke up for the first time, his voice soft and unsure.

"Ernie's right – you're a wonderful aunt but what do you know about raising a thirteen-year-old boy?" Belle's voice gained confidence. "You don't have children of your own – no personal experience – I think Leo should stay with us-"

"I won't stay trapped in this hell one more day!" Leo yelled as he barged into the kitchen, interrupting the family conference. "If I can't live with Aunt Alina, I'll run away and none of you will ever see me again, I swear it!"

Belle burst into tears and Ernie wrapped her in his arms.

"Leo! That's quite enough – I won't have you speak to your mother that way," Alina snapped.

"But-"

"No buts. Your mother is my sister and I've loved her all my life – I know you've not had an easy life and you're angry but that's no reason for you to talk to your parents like that. If you're going to live with me, Rule Number One is to treat everyone like you want to be treated. Do you want me to talk to you like that?"

Leo gritted his teeth. "No, Aunt Alina."

Alina gave a sharp nod. "Good – we're agreed then – I don't yell at you, and you don't yell at me." She turned back to her sister. "About my not having experience-"

Belle sniffled and waved her hands. "Forget what I said, Alina. My heart is broken to lose him, but I know he's in good hands with you."

Alina hadn't thought about the morning she had fought for the right to take Leo to live with her for several years. But the visit from the two CSIs, Grissom, and Sidle, had brought all those buried memories to the surface and Alina had gone to bed for weeks now only to have bits and pieces of that day appear in her dreams. She thought about reaching out to Leo, or Mitch as he now called himself, but she didn't want to be the one to mention his father to him. It was still an extremely thorny subject for the lad, and she didn't know if he even knew that his father had confessed to being a serial killer. Though the two CSIs seemed to have their doubts about Ernie's guilt, Alina was mostly convinced of it. The man had been totally devoted to her sister and once Belle had died, who knows what the grief-stricken man had done and with whom. The idea that one of the chosen was in league with him was entirely possible but Alina was of the opinion that Ernie was the mastermind and that one of the fosters had been his accomplice, not the other way around. After all, those children had absolutely worshipped the ground Ernie and Belle walked on.

About a month later, Alina came home from her volunteer job at the library, to find a small package on her doorstep. Puzzled, she picked up the wrapped box and took it inside with her, dropping it on the sofa, deciding to open it after a shower and nice dinner.

Alina forgot all about the package until the flickering light from the TV landed on it late in the evening. Her curiosity piqued, she put on her reading glasses and scanned the label. There was no return address, and she almost threw it in the garbage right then and there but being an older woman who lived alone and received so few packages, she wanted to at least see what was inside. She tore off the brown paper and stared in wonder at the box of old-fashioned cherry cordials, made with real cherry liqueur. Turning the box over, she found a small white envelope taped to the back with the words Aunt Alina written in thick black marker. She tore open the envelope and read the short note inside:

Saw these in a candy store today and immediately thought of you. Talk to you soon. Love, Mitch

Alina's eyes teared up. Mitch hadn't been this thoughtful in quite a while. Perhaps he had seen the news about his father and decided to reach out to his aunt. She should call and thank him right away. Her eyes flew to the clock, and she frowned. It was too late now with the time difference. She would enjoy a couple candies as a bedtime treat and call her nephew first thing in the morning.

Alina sat back on the couch, removing the cellophane from the candy box with eager fingers. She hadn't had this candy in years – where on earth had he found it? Opening the lid, she inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate and cherries. Taking her time, she picked out just the right piece, popping it into her mouth, savoring the flavors as the chocolate shell burst open and the liquid center was released. She sighed in satisfaction and reached for another one as a strong burning sensation built up in her throat.

Alina began to cough, she couldn't stop, her fingers clawing at her throat, as the room spun around her.

They were still five miles out when Sara's phone rang. Grissom hit the answer button.

"Jim, you're on speaker. Gil's here too," Sara spoke into the air of the cab.

"Well kids, I don't have good news. The cop that did a wellness check is currently puking his guts out-"

Sara's hands tightened on the wheel. "Alina's dead then?"

"Oh yeah. She's been dead for at least two days according to the smell and the level of decomp – though the air conditioning has kept her well-preserved."

Sara swore softly and thumped the wheel, temporarily overcome with emotion, so Gil took over asking questions.

"What's BCPD doing?"

"Well, the coroner is there now getting a TOD and COD, though I hear it's pretty straightforward. The police have sealed off the house and set up a perimeter around it but now that we have another victim of the miniature killer, BCPD is kicking the case to LVPD. Conrad informed them that two CSIs were already in route to the scene, and I'm about a half hour behind you with Dave another hour out."

"Sounds good, Jim, thanks. Hey, would you mind calling Catherine and telling her to study the rest of the miniatures-"

"Gil, your team was all over the other miniatures when I left the lab an hour ago. Conrad was hovering behind them, driving them all crazy, and told me to tell you that he wants an update the minute you've got anything for him."

Sara rolled her eyes. "He could try actually lending a hand instead of micromanaging all of us."

"Not his style, Sugar."

Gil spoke up, frowning at the 'Sugar' endearment from Jim. "We gotta go, we're at our turn-off."

"Roger that – see you both soon."

Gil hit the end button, still glaring at the phone.

"Gil."

"Hmm?" He lifted his eyes to hers.

Sara smiled briefly into his before returning her gaze to the road. "You know Jim thinks of me as a daughter, right?"

He grunted. "Does he have to call you sugar?"

"I do believe you're jealous!" she grinned. "Don't be jealous. 'Sugar pie, honey bunch, you know that I love you,'" she sang loudly, making Gil grin.

He reached across and placed a hand over hers on the steering wheel. "I do know." He paused for a beat and then asked, "Are you feeling any better? Sara, you have to know now that Alina was dead long before we got that miniature-"

She blew out a breath. "I do. I just – I feel like we led the killer right to her."

He shook his head as he removed his hand so she could focus on driving. "If we're right, and it's one of the foster kids, he or she always knew about Alina."

"OK, then how did he or she get wind of our investigation? How did Alina become a threat?"

"I don't know, honey. But we'll find out – and we'll get justice for Alina. We'll get justice for all of them."

The air inside of Alina's house was heavy with the scent of decomposing flesh – but not as heavy as it would have been if the air conditioning had not been running. Grissom and Sara had both experienced much stronger smelling crime scenes – from working in a desert environment and discovering bodies left to rot in the Vegas sunshine. They passed by a young officer who was still a bit green on their way into the house and paused in the doorway, not because they were queasy, but because they were remembering the last time they were here. Alina had been flitting around like a nervous butterfly, unable or unwilling to sit still for very long. She had been so very much alive then and now she was curled in a fetal position next to her coffee table, her hands at her throat, her fingers permanently clawing at the flesh.

The coroner looked up as Gil and Sara entered the room, nodding at their attire. "You must be the two CSIs from Vegas. You made good time."

"Yes, well, we called in the wellness check and didn't wait for the callback," Gil explained as he sank into a crouch beside the body as Sara started to do a walkabout, taking notes, and snapping photos.

"You had some foreknowledge of the crime? I'm Stanley, by the way."

"Gil Grissom. Not enough to prevent Alina's death, unfortunately."

Stanley nodded. "Well, I've already done my prelim. You knew the victim?"

"Alina Peters. My colleague, Sara Sidle," he nodded in her direction and Sara looked up from her notes to wave at Stanley. "And I, visited Alina in connection with a case we've been working on in Las Vegas over the past few months. We thought it was closed, but with Alina's death-"

Stanley whistled. "You just might have to rethink that? Talk about opening up a can of worms-"

"Well, since the worms couldn't live in a sealed can – the lid would have to be at least partially open in the first place. So, the worms would always have a chance to escape-"

"I guess-" Stanley rubbed his forehead in confusion.

Sara smirked from across the room. She was used to Gil's tangential comments on bugs and other creepy crawlies, but strangers were often flummoxed by the man's seemingly random statements that had little to do with the case.

"Do you have TOD or COD?"

"COD is easy – poison. I won't know what kind until I open her up in autopsy – or I suppose I should say until your guy opens her up," Stanley grunted.

"It's nothing against you or your city," Gil tried to explain but Stanley held up his hand.

"No, I get it. It's simple politics and this is your case. Now, I'm afraid I can't get closer than thirty-six to forty-eight hours ago for TOD. I'm leaning closer to two days based on my gut and level of decomposition, but I don't have any physical evidence as yet to support that."

"Perhaps we can narrow that down by finding someone who saw her in town two days ago," Sara suggested as she came and squatted beside Alina's body. "Is that chocolate on her fingers?"

"I think so –there is a box of cherry cordials, upside down, sticking out from under the coffee table."

Sara pulled the box out with her gloved hands, turning it over to see a few of the candies were still stuck to the bottom of the cardboard. "Hmm, cordials. Liquid center – good vehicle for poison," she murmured, her eyes meeting Gil's over the box.

He nodded thoughtfully as he looked from the box to Alina's fingers, to her contorted face. "Yes, an excellent vehicle for poison. Let's see what else we can find around here."

"Poison?" Greg echoed. "Do we know what kind?"

Sara shook her head as she took an enormous bite of her egg salad sandwich.

Grissom grinned. "We just dropped all the trace evidence off with Hodges – if you want to speed things up, you can always go help him out-"

"I'm on it!" Greg dashed out of the lounge.

"What did you do that for, Gil? You know Hodges hates having anyone in his lab, even Greg," Catherine moaned.

"Because it gets him out of my hair and the work will get done twice as fast so that means Conrad will get out of my hair."

Sara hummed an agreement and continued to eat, scooping up a blob of egg that fell out of her overflowing sandwich and onto the tabletop.

"Ugh, Sara!" Catherine protested. "When was the last time you ate? You're eating like you've never seen food before."

Sara slowly chewed her food as she thought. "Hmm, I ate breakfast, didn't I, Gris?"

Gil laughed. "Yes Dear, toast, fruit, yogurt, eggs- and you finished my oatmeal too."

Catherine's eyes bugged out. "Sara, are you-"

"What?"

The redhead's eyes darted to Grissom who had turned his attention to a file in front of him. Sara looked at Catherine, a questioning look on her face. Catherine mimed rocking a baby and Sara laughed.

"Nope, just really hungry. I skipped lunch, due to our road trip."

Catherine dropped the subject but kept the information of Sara's ravenous appetite filed away for later, just in case.

"So, what else do we know about Alina's murder besides COD?"

Sara crumpled up her deli wrapper and threw it in the trash. She started to munch on her pickle, so Gil spoke up again.

"We called the library where she volunteers and found out that she missed Thursday but was there on Tuesday."

"Does she volunteer anywhere on Wednesday?"

"Not according to her calendar," Sara piped up. "It's the one weekday she keeps open – possibly for appointments and shopping."

"So, between Tuesday night and Thursday morning, Alina died. It's still a big window."

"The package of cherry cordials was delivered Tuesday morning-"

Sara nodded. "So, if we're right, and the poison was in the chocolate-"

"And if she ate one Tuesday night-"

"Who were the chocolates from?" Catherine threw out the question.

Sara and Gil exchanged a glance.

"What is it? Come on, spill it!"

"There was a note with the candy – it was signed Mitch," Gil admitted, his right eyebrow cocked.

Catherine's mouth fell open. "Mitch – as in the nephew?"

They both nodded.

"Well, no wonder Alina felt safe enough to eat them-"

"But the candy wasn't from him – they couldn't have been. I mean, why would he kill her? It doesn't make any sense!" Sara protested.

"Did you find contact info for Mitch in Alina's house?"

Gil nodded. "Yeah, an address and phone number. Jim has one of his detectives following up on it."

Nick and Warrick burst into the room, talking over each other, their excitement and nervous energy overwhelming the others.

"Gris, we found something!"

"You got to see this!"

"What is it?" Grissom got to his feet.

"Come to the layout room-"

"Yeah, we have to show you-"

Sara, Gil, and Catherine followed them to the layout room where all the miniature crime scenes were sitting on the table.

"We've been taking apart the other miniatures piece by piece-"

"And I thought something was weird about those tiny doll pictures-"

"Aside from the fact that they're bleeding?" Sara snorted.

"Yes," Nick argued. "Anyway, I shone a UV light on one of them and look- this word appeared-" He held the tiny picture in his hand and shone the light on it, revealing the word 'you'.

Warrick picked up the story. "So, I thought if there was one word, there could be more." He paused.

"And?" Catherine prompted.

"I pulled the doll pictures from Penny's and Raymundo's miniatures and put them next to Izzy's. When you put the three together under the UV light, it makes a three-word phrase."

Warrick placed the tiny photos side by side on the layout table and the team clustered around, staring down as the phrase was revealed:

You were wrong